


These Two Foes

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst, Backstory, First Time, Foursome, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad wants to hate the new Lieutenant, but he can't. Neither of them are easy men. Whatever this is between them will some day bring them together, or eventually tear them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Two Foes

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, all errors are my own.

Brad wanted to hate the LT. He wanted him to be the same useless, vacuous, over-educated, insecure, incompetent rank-seeking waste of a uniform that so many others were. Lt. Fick showed Brad respect whenever they had contact; even when the LT would be right to take him down a peg or two. Brad wanted to hate his platoon commander but he couldn’t and that fucking pissed him off.

“Brad, you’ll be with me in the Zodiac,” Fick outlined the amphib training mission. “Along with Stafford, Christeson and Garza. Sgt. Lovell, you’ll take Gunny Wynn, Person, Chaffin …”

Brad tuned out the rest of the assignments. He watched the Lieutenant’s hands as he pointed to maps and written briefing points for the training. His voice was steady and firm, his words clipped and precise as he methodically laid out the mission objectives and parameters.

“Due respect, sir,” Brad said, when the LT asked for questions. “You and I in the same boat makes it top-heavy command-wise.”

Fick turned focused green eyes on him. Brad would have elaborated but the LT was nodding understanding even before Brad finished his sentence. “Your skill and ability is well established, Sergeant. The safety of a training exercise is optimal for building experience and confidence.”

He watched Fick’s perfect white teeth and his obscene, bow-shaped mouth as he talked. While his answer was somewhat cryptic, Brad understood as much of what the LT _didn’t_ say, as what he did.

It galled Brad that the fucker was right. Continuing to argue would just make Brad come across as an insubordinate asshole.

The training mission was a perfect storm of fuck-ups. Fick ordered two Marines out of the boat and into the pounding surf. Brad fought his inclination to be the first one over the side. Diving was his specialty and he knew what needed to be done to get the Zodiac through the waves.

Stafford and Christeson both came up sputtering after a wave swamped them. Brad gave the LT a quick glance and received a curt nod in answer. He belly-crawled through the salt water on the bottom of the boat, his wetsuit keeping him warm. Brad talked the young, inexperienced Marines through the next several minutes, raising his voice only to be heard over the pounding surf.

When he and Garza pulled Stafford and Christeson back aboard, Brad was confident they’d know what to do when faced with this situation in actual combat. He resumed his place in the rear of the Zodiac, next to Fick. The Lieutenant gave him an approving nod, his jaw clenched in an attempt to mask the chattering of his teeth.

The LT’s approval heated something low in Brad’s gut. It was a dumb-ass reaction. Brad didn’t need a boot officer’s approval to know he was good at is job. He wanted to express his disdain but he didn’t even have the balls to look away from the LT’s direct, appraising gaze.

Again, weeks later, Brad bit back his irritation when Fick announced he’d be shadowing Brad and his team on a Recon training mission.

“I don’t require a babysitter on training missions, sir,” he said. It irritated Brad that he couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the Lieutenant’s mouth, and that freckle just below is left eye.

“I’m assured of this, Sergeant,” Fick replied, nonplussed. “I’m observing only. Attempting to get a feel for how the platoon works; as individuals as well as in teams.”

That verbal tick of the LT’s was fucking annoying.

“There’s really no need, sir,” Brad pressed, seeking a release for this feeling of annoyance in his chest. “Gunny Wynn can give you any assessment you need.”

“I prefer to make my own assessments,” Fick and said sharply, eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m shadowing your team on this mission, Sergeant Colbert. You’ll just have to make do.”

“Aye aye, sir,” he said stiffly, darkly pleased he’d managed to push the Lieutenant even this far.

At least he stayed out of the team’s way during the goddamn training.

One night, the platoon was on the range, deep inside of Pendleton, preparing to practice making entry into hostile structures. Fick ordered Brad to lead a team through the exercise, made up of all the most junior grunts.

Brad caught the LT’s eye. Fick gave a nearly imperceptible inclination of his head and Brad followed him until they were out of earshot of the platoon. Even Gunny stood back.

“Sir, I’d like to swap out one or two of the Pfc’s for Sgt. Patrick; even Corporal Lilley,” Brad said, as soon as Fick turned to face him.

“If I was sending you on a real mission, Brad, I’d have assigned an entirely different team,” the Lieutenant replied. “From a tactical and logistical standpoint, you would need a team with at least _some_ proven skill and experience.”

“Agreed, sir,” Brad said, hearing the unspoken caveat yet to come. He realized for the first time that the freckle beneath the LT’s eye wasn’t the only one; he had a sprinkling of them along his nose. Christ. Brad’s platoon commander looked like a fucking kid.

“But this is training. You and I have the luxury of letting these men make mistakes, out of which, we can formulate lessons for the entire platoon.” Fick’s voice was low and almost conspiratorial, as if he needed Brad’s complicity in his plan. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Brad. I need you to lead by example and make corrections to their behavior, imparting your own extensive training and experience.”

“Copy that, sir,” Brad answered. Why the fuck he was agreeing so easily to play nice with others, he had no idea. He was going to lose his edge if he spent too much time wiping noses and asses.

As they started to return to the platoon, the Lieutenant suddenly said, “Don’t worry; I’ll let you lead an experienced team through the exercises. It will serve as an example of the level of skill we want the men to strive to achieve. We also don’t want all of your sharp edges smoothing out, do we?”

Brad managed to hide his surprise at the LT’s words and how they echoed his own thoughts. “It’ll take more than a few pussy training exercises to significantly diminish my level of competence, Lieutenant.”

“I’m assured of this, Sergeant.” This time, the tick was accompanied by a softy huffed laugh.

Brad couldn’t see Fick’s face, but now he was wondering if that phrase wasn’t a means to reassure the speaker, as much as the listener.

It wasn’t until later – much later – that Brad realized that the LT had called him by name, rather than just ‘Sergeant’. That was common, officers referring to enlisted by name. Even the battalion commander, Col. Ferrando, called him Brad on the rare occasion their paths crossed. Brad rubbed his palm over an itch on the back of his neck as he realized Fick had never done it before.

“Whacha need there, Brad?” Mike asked as Brad approached him.

“Looking for the LT.”

“He’s over there with Hasser.” Mike nodded and Brad looked in the direction he indicated. “Taken time to give a little extra instruction.”

Brad watched as Walt stared eagerly into the Lieutenant’s face. He nodded frequently at whatever Fick was saying to him. Hasser’s expression was fervent, like he was committing every word to memory.

So, not just Brad then. It was something about the LT that made men pay attention and _want_ to follow him. Brad didn’t give a shit, as long as Fick earned it. He’d just have to make sure that was the case.

Brad was on his way to the PT grounds when he heard his name called. He turned to see Cpt. Schwetje, the company commander, approaching him; Lt. Fick following just slightly behind.

“Captain,” Brad greeted with a salute that was returned lazily. “Lieutenant.” Fick’s salute was sharp and precise.

Schwetje ordered Brad at his ease. What followed was a pointless, unfocused, rambling monologue that left Brad itching to ask questions using long words and complex, compound sentences, just to see the Captain’s confused expression deepen.

Brad flicked his gaze to the LT’s face and what he saw made him keep his mouth shut. Fick was watching Brad intently, eyes filled with silent entreaty. The fucker was sucking on his lower lip, as if fighting his own battle not to call his C.O. a moron.

Heat pooled low in Brad’s belly but he made sure to police his fucking expression. Maybe the perfect fucking Lieutenant was human after all. Brad wondered what it might take to make Fick lose his cool.

When Schwetji finally walked away, Brad waited just long enough for him to get out of earshot. “I was unaware the Corps had begun to recruit from the shallow end of the gene pool.”

Fick huffed a soft laugh and one side of his mouth lifted in a hesitant smile. He glanced around as if checking for anyone who might overhear.

“I’d heard there were isolated communities where inbreeding was rampant but this is the first scientific evidence I’ve witnessed.”

Nate tilted his head to look up at Brad, narrowing his eyes as if to squint into the sun.

“On the other hand, that’s fairly typical of the intelligence level of officers. The dim eyes and slack jaw are a bonus, I’ll admit.”

“Brad,” Nate said warningly.

Brad didn’t heed the LT’s warning. “I understand now, why so few of you can read maps with any accuracy; calculating distance requires higher math skills than fingers and toes.”

Nate glanced away and looked like he was biting his cheek to stifle a laugh. Brad felt a sudden need to keep pushing; to see if he could make him break.

“Brad,” Nate said, a little sharper this time. “He’s an analyst. He rides a desk. He can be good at what he does without having to be good at what you do.”

Brad was undaunted. “Good to know some things never change. The Corps is still trying to get me killed by an incompetent command.”

Nate’s head snapped up. “Alright, that’s enough, Sergeant.” This time his expression was severe.

“Sir,” Brad replied, resisting the urge to keep poking at his Lieutenant.

“Brad,” Nate said in a low voice. “I trust you not to share these types of derogatory comments with the rest of the platoon.”

“For me to share anything with the rest of the platoon, I’d have to actually talk to them,” he replied, wondering if the LT would understand.

Brad knew he did when Nate smiled briefly, the barest flash of teeth, before he grew serious again. “I understand the value of being able to vent your frustration. I just ask that you be circumspect in the specificity of your criticisms.”

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant, sir.” Brad enunciated carefully.

The shift in Nate’s expression was so subtle as to be non-existent but Brad saw it, because he was looking. He felt a dark sense of victory to know he’d gotten a rise out of the LT, however small.

“It’s just you and me,” Nate continued with the same equanimity that made the back of Brad’s neck itch. “ _I_ know you don’t intend any insubordination. Let’s keep it just between the two of us.”

Brad watched Nate closely, ignoring the fact the ground felt like it was tilting beneath his feet. Something told him this was a blanket request, applying to more than just gripes about their company commander.

“Roger that, sir.”

It was a conversation Brad promptly reminded Nate about when they were told Schwetje would be in Iraq with them, failing to command his Humvee platoons.

Nate shared a secret smile with him. He didn’t concur with Brad’s vilifying rant, but neither did he put a stop to it. Brad brought himself to an abrupt halt when he noticed something slightly pained about Nate’s expression. For the first time, he wondered just how much monumental shit Nate was protecting them from.

“We’ll make do, sir,” Brad said, thinking he might try listening more and talking less. “Marines bitch and moan about everything, but we get the job done.”

“I’m assured of this, Brad.” Nate’s voice was quiet and his expression placid but Brad caught something shifting behind his eyes. The LT was sure of nothing.

“Your men will _not_ let you down,” he said, forcing himself to hold Nate’s gaze without blinking. “We’ll whine and cry like a bunch of bitches, but we will get the Humvees running. I’ll make sure we execute _your_ orders, sir, to the best of our substantial abilities.”

“I know you will, Brad.” Nate’s reply held none of the earlier disquiet. He meant these words. What’s more, he believed them. “I have no doubts on that front.”

As soon as Brad stopped trying to antagonize Nate, he realized just how fucked their situation was. Encino Man was an incompetent idiot who didn’t have the first idea about how to command, how to lead, or how to get out of his own fucking way.

Griego was no better. Instead of keeping his captain on the rails and looking out for the Marines under their command, Casey Kasem had crawled up Encino Man’s ass and made himself a permanent home.

Nate shouldered the bulk of the shit alone and in silence. Mike took good care of him, Brad was sure. But they both gave Brad certain looks; made cryptic comments that had him convinced that shit was rolling downhill in fifty-gallon drums and Nate was the only thing holding them back.

Nate might make Brad feel things he fucking hated to feel, but he was a solid officer and Brad was going to have his back. Like the time the two of them were crossing from one end of Mathilda to the other - discussing what they needed, and still didn’t have, in order to get all the Humvees functional - when Schwetji approached them, Griego following behind like a demented gnome.

Brad talked shit _about_ officers outside of their hearing all the time. He’d never, in his entire career, spoken to an officer with the kind of open contempt Griego heaped on Nate.

And Encino Man just fucking stood there listening; looking bemused, confused and completely out of his depth.

When Nate responded, his answer carefully crafted with salient points and delivered in as respectful a tone as Brad had ever heard, Schwetji and Griego both tensed visibly. Their tag-team reply was both idiotic and intentionally patronizing toward Nate.

Brad drew himself to his full height and stared down at them. He didn’t speak but he let them see and feel his disdain, making it obvious who it was _he_ trusted, respected and chose to follow into battle. Nate might only be on his second command; he might look twelve-years-old, but Encino Man and his henchman were afraid him. They were aware enough of their own incompetence to be threatened by Nate’s natural authority and personal charisma.

Fuck them. Nobody got to push his Lieutenant’s buttons but Brad.

Somewhere in the desert, things got all fucked up.

Encino Man gave the worst moto speech imaginable. Brad’s pre-school aged niece babbled with more clarity of thought. But when he’d turned to Nate to commiserate, he’d received silence and the sight of the LT’s retreating back. It’d stung, and fuck it if Brad hadn’t tucked his tail and slinked off to brood.

After the cluster-fuck of the ambush outside of Al Muwaffaqiyah, Brad was so exhausted and frustrated he’d given Nate lip. The sight of Nate’s retreating back had still haunted him. His irritation was close to the surface and skating just under his skin. Poking at Nate like he was a coiled snake just felt good.

Until he got a good look at Nate’s face.

The night in the amusement park, Brad knew Nate was slipping away. He willed the LT to understand everything Brad couldn’t say in front of Rolling Stone. He said all he felt it was safe to say, desperate to keep Nate close and knowing he’d already lost him.

They all came home and nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Brad drank a lot. He rode his motorcycle more. Nate made captain and didn’t renew his commission. Brad made Staff Sergeant and found out he was going to England.

It was his father who first told Brad there was something different about him since he’d come back. It wasn’t anything bad; it wasn’t anything wrong. It was nothing his father could cite specifically. Brad had come home a little harder; a little sharper.

Figuring out where the Captain lived wasn’t difficult for Brad. He waited for the weekend Nate’s roommate had duty and in a move he knew was ballsy, knocked right on the front door.

To his credit, Nate barely looked surprised when he opened the door. He stepped aside, almost reluctantly, to admit Brad. “Too early for a beer?” he asked.

“Never.” Brad leaned against the kitchen counter as he drank. He felt restless as he watched Nate’s mouth and throat each time he swallowed. Brad felt like his skin was stretched too-tight over his bones. “Later on we should go out. I know a bar. The women are plentiful, if somewhat on the homely side. Still, you’re pretty enough, sir, shouldn’t be difficult for you to get laid.”

Nate met Brad’s eyes without blinking. His lips pressed into a thin line. “I have a girlfriend, Brad.”

Swallowing against the churning of his sour stomach, Brad replied, “So you _do_ need to get laid. If you’re concerned about having to disengage a needy clinger tomorrow morning, I know of a particular street in downtown Oceanside where a great number of professionals ply their trade.”

Nate took a long drink of his beer without looking away from Brad’s face. “Is that what you’ve been doing since we got back?” he asked after he’d swallowed, watching Brad watch his throat move. “Picking up bar-skanks and street-whores?”

Hearing Nate, of all people, utter that kind of filthy language made Brad’s dick throb. He ignored it. “Haven’t needed the whores, yet. I don’t have to work too hard for it in the bars. Most of the time I’m lucky and never make it out of the parking lot. Sometimes I have no choice; I gotta take them home with me.”

Leaning back against the counter, like this was a conversation he had every day, Nate said, “You better fucking be careful. A dripping dick will affect your combat effectiveness.”

Brad reached into the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew the strip of Trojans he’d stashed there on his way out the door. He raised the ante and tossed them onto the counter next to Nate. “I’m good to go.”

Nate glanced at the foil packets, raised his bottle to his lips and looked at Brad again as he swallowed. “It’s just like you, Staff Sergeant, to always be squared away.”

Brad tensed at the use of his rank. Nate was putting distance between them, reminding Brad of the unseen barriers separating them. He could kick them down but something in him wanted Nate not to be a pussy and stop hiding behind them. “Got anything stronger than beer?”

“Yes.” Nate didn’t move, just kept leaning on the counter, looking Brad in the eye without blinking.

“With your privileged upbringing and ivy-league education, I would have thought your mom had raised you with better hosting skills than she apparently did.” Brad looked down at Nate, hoping for an explosion.

“What can I do for you, Staff Sergeant?” Nate demanded, setting aside his beer and standing straight. His posture and his flashing eyes indicating Brad had scored a direct hit.

“I assure you, Captain, this is purely a social visit.”

“You and I cannot, and do not, socialize, Staff Sergeant.” Nate’s words were clipped and precise. “The Marine regs are clear on the topic of fraternization between commissioned officers and enlisted. Even the non-commissioned officers, such as yourself.”

“Hiding behind the regs, Nate?”

“Is there something that I, as your platoon commander, can help you with, Staff Sergeant Colbert?”

Just a word. One word or touch would be enough to crack Nate’s controlled façade. Brad fucking _knew it_. But he wanted a passionate response from Nate, not an angry one. “No, Captain. There is not.”

“You’ll be leaving then.” It wasn’t a question. He handed Brad the strip of Trojans with a steady hand. “I’ll see you at the paddle party.”

“Possibly,” Brad replied, as he reached for the handle of Nate’s front door.

“I expect you to be there, Brad,” Nate said sharply enough to make Brad turn back. He stood in the center of the room, a little more relaxed than he’d been a moment before, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You and I went through some shit together. It’s worth lifting a glass to.”

Brad left Nate’s house with a mute nod. On the freeway, he opened up the bike and headed north. In Anaheim, he got his fifth speeding ticket since he’d returned from Iraq. Still, Brad rocketed up the freeway at illegal speeds until he found himself in North Hollywood.

He didn’t even have to find a bar. With the strip of condoms in his pocket, Brad unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open, as he pushed through the door of a bookshop. It wasn’t crowded but it was doing a brisk Saturday business. He figured he’d be cruised for about five minutes before the first approach.

Four minutes and seventeen seconds later, Brad let himself be led by the hand out the back door of the shop. It was usually difficult to find a bottom who wasn’t a twink or overly effeminate. Brad was getting lucky in more ways than one. This guy was tall and well muscled, with a firm, round ass – and green eyes.

The following weekend, the officers of First Recon gathered for Nate’s first paddle party. Nate wasn’t in attendance. Brad heard the scuttlebutt about Benelli scheduling it at a time the entire battalion knew Nate would be back east, visiting his family and making arrangements for his move. Encino Man hadn’t made any protest and Captain America was already gone.

When Brad questioned Patterson, the Captain laughed mirthlessly and said, “Nate doesn’t give a shit, Brad. He can’t care enough to even be insulted by the slight. It’s the paddle party his men are throwing that he’s looking forward to.”

“He said that?”

“He was _your_ platoon commander.” Patterson looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “You know better than anyone how important you all are to him. He never did feel like he belonged at the officer’s table. Nate’s always been more at home digging a ranger-grave alongside his men.”

Brad stopped himself from asking Patterson, if what he said was true, why Nate was leaving them. He was man enough to admit that was a question he should ask Nate, when he saw him again. Brad knew he wouldn’t, though. Any answer he could conceive of felt like a Ka-Bar twisting in his chest.

A week and a half later, standing in the kitchen with Nate, Brad wanted him to know what that pain felt like.

“How are you adjusting to being back?” Nate asked, handing Brad one of the two shots he’d just poured. “Are you sleeping okay? Any trouble dealing with crowds? Loud noises?”

Brad wondered at the specificity of Nate’s questions. “I’m settling in fine,” he lied. “I’ve never liked crowds. I’m sleeping okay.”

“Alone?”

“Excuse me?” If he’d been talking to Ray he’d have told him to shut the fuck up.

“Are you getting better about sleeping alone?” Nate asked carefully, shot glass seemingly forgotten in his hand. “Or are you still bringing strangers home?”

Fuck. Brad threw back the Cuervo shot, not bothering with salt or lime.

He took a deep breath. “Not as many.”

“Any chance of you slowing down on the motorcycle anytime soon?” Nate looked away to refill Brad’s shot glass.

“Might not have a choice, soon,” he muttered, surprised that he’d even admit this.

Nate glanced up in surprise and then knocked back his own shot. Heat washed through Brad’s body as he watched Nate’s sinful mouth suck the lime wedge. His reactions were so fucked up anymore; he didn’t know what anything meant.

“What do you mean?” Nate poured out more Cuervo.

“I’ve racked up a few speeding tickets since we’ve been back,” Brad confessed. “It’s starting to get expensive.”

“I can imagine.” Nate was watching Brad’s face intently, eyes wide and assessing. “How many is ‘a few’?”

“Six.”

Nate whistled in response. He’d done that once before, when they were in Iraq. “How many more before they pull your license?”

“One day soon, some judge isn’t going to be impressed with my ‘service to my country’ and is going to yank it,” Brad admitted. He had no idea what the fuck he’d do when that happened. And he knew he’d still keep riding way too fast.

“Your exchange with the Royal Marines can’t come soon enough,” Nate said with a chuckle. “At least it’ll give your driving record two years to cool off.”

“I just have to make it through the next sixty days.” Brad had been so focused on Nate’s departure date, he’d nearly forgotten his own.

If Nate had stayed in, _Brad_ would be the one leaving _him_.

“How’s your girlfriend feel about you packing up and leaving her behind all alone?” Brad practically spat the word ‘girlfriend’.

Nate’s head snapped up and he either couldn’t, or didn’t bother, to mask his surprise. “Is that really any of your fucking business?”

Brad had been drinking since he’d arrived. “Did you consult with _anyone_ whose life you’re affecting?”

Nate tossed back the Cuervo shot he was holding. Everyone grimaced when they shot tequila - even Nate. “Ask me whatever the fuck it is you want to know, Brad. Stop hiding behind safe topics like a pussy.” His voice was rough from the burning alcohol.

Brad glanced around to see if anyone was interested in what was going on between them. They were surrounded by Marines, oblivious in their inebriation.

“I ran into Patterson while you were gone,” he said, selecting his words for maximum effect on target. “He seemed to think you actually care about the men who’ve served under your command.”

“I did and I do,” Nate replied angrily. “That fact is precisely why I have to get out.”

Brad’s mouth lifted in a tight smile and he laughed harshly. Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, he scoffed, “It’s not you, it’s me, can’t we just be friends?” Christ. When had he made Nate’s decision not to re-up about himself? Why the fuck did Brad sound like a goddamn jilted lover?

Nate stepped in close enough for Brad to feel the heat radiating off of his body. When he spoke, his breath was hot and alcohol laden as it ghosted over Brad’s cheek. “You and I joined a peace-time military, but things have changed drastically. Ordering men into a battle that could cost them their lives is no longer a theoretical exercise. If I stay in, I’ll have to do that, and I can’t. I came back from Iraq without losing a single man, so I’m going to get out with my perfect record intact.” Nate paused to take a deep breath. He released it on a frustrated sigh. “I’m leaving the Marines, Brad. I’m not leaving _you_.”

Brad clenched his jaw and forced himself not to give ground. He steeled himself and looked down at Nate’s earnest expression.

“She was wrong,” Nate said into Brad’s tense silence.

“What?”

“There is nothing wrong with you that needs fixing. She was wrong.”

“Roger that.” Brad gave a sharp nod of understanding and then had to look away. He stood straight, eyes forward, as if Nate was a D.I. trying to force Brad to break.

This time, he just might.

The party spilled into the room around them and Nate stepped away abruptly. Using the ensuing chaos as cover, Brad made his escape. When he finally stepped out of the bathroom he’d retreated to, his heart had slowed and his breathing was normal, but Brad couldn’t shake the itch he felt just under his skin.

Nate left California two weeks later.

Brad left the country six weeks after that.

He didn’t like England. Brad was sure his entire perception was colored by the suck-ass weather. He missed the sun and its accompanying heat. Late at night, alone in his rented cottage and after several lagers, Brad let himself miss Nate and his accompanying warmth.

Any long weekend, any opportunity at all, Brad grabbed his Euro-Pass and hopped a train. He’d ride until the weather turned warm. Spain, Italy, Greece; he didn’t care. One day, he glanced out the window and saw a small group of motorcycles pacing the train. They looked relaxed, headed nowhere in particular, just enjoying the ride and one another’s company.

Brad wondered idly if that would be something Nate might enjoy doing.

At the end of the first year of his exchange, Brad couldn’t get back to the states fast enough. His mother greeted him at baggage claim making embarrassingly high-pitched sounds. Brad dropped his bag and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. He let her rock them side-to-side for several minutes.

Seven days into his thirty-day leave, Brad’s skin was once again bronzed. His nose and shoulders were peeling like they had the summer he’d turned twelve. Sitting in the sand, his board standing upright next to him, Brad ran his hand over the back of his neck. The itch was still there. He skimmed his palm over the vague ache that never seemed to leave his chest. He didn’t feel right in his own skin anymore.

After dinner that night, Brad told him mom, “I’m going to head out tomorrow morning on a road trip; visit some of the guys.”

“Brad, you just got here,” she groused.

“I’ve been here a week,” he countered. “And I have three more left. I’ll be back long before I have to leave.”

“Well, where exactly are you going?”

“Several places,” he hedged. “I’m just stopping in to see some of the guys. I’m not staying long in one place,” Brad lied.

Four days later, and a half day outside of Massachusetts, Brad climbed stiffly off his motorcycle in the parking lot of a cheap motel. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and felt the crumbled paper of the three speeding tickets he’d gotten along the way. Somewhere in there was the one he’d gotten in California the week before.

Brad paid the extra money and swore at the pathetically slow speed of the motel’s dial-up connection. He’d emailed Nate off and on during the past year. Brad hadn’t mentioned he was taking leave.

Before he could think about it too much, he fired off an email.

_Arriving your 20 tomorrow, approx. 1400 hrs local._

Brad showered and didn’t think about the response he might receive.

He sat down at the small desk and opened Nate’s email. It contained a street address, a land line and cell phone number. Brad stared hard at the last line of text.

_I’ll be waiting. Call if you need directions._

He rode slowly the next day, making sure not to arrive early. At 1400 hours local time, Brad cut the engine on his bike in front of a towering brick apartment building. You couldn’t get anymore ‘east coast’.

Nate opened the door to Brad’s knock, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were a bright and clear green, making it obvious his delight was genuine.

The tight feeling of Brad’s skin eased slightly.

Nate was true to his word; he’d been waiting for Brad. Sheets, blankets and pillows were stacked on the sofa which Brad could pull out, or not. Extra towels in the bathroom and plenty of beer in the fridge told Brad he was welcome, even on short notice.

They spent the afternoon drinking beer and catching up until Brad’s stomach lodged a protest. Nate walked them to a local restaurant with a bar that grew more and more boisterous as the evening progressed.

Their table was cleared, their check paid, and they sat comfortably finishing off their beers. A group of women walked by, following the hostess. All four of them glanced at Brad and Nate appreciatively, smiling flirtatiously and giggling. The fourth woman, straggling behind her friends, gave Nate a long, lingering look and a suggestive smile.

Nate smiled in return and something dark and cold flared in Brad’s chest. Nate’s smile didn’t dim when he turned back to Brad, which was the only thing that kept hot anger from boiling to the surface.

Jealousy spiked through Brad. He’d felt this before, out drinking with guys. The difference was, this wasn’t jealousy of Nate cock-blocking him while competing for a woman, like the alpha-males they were. This time, Brad was jealous of the woman who had caught Nate’s attention and received one of his brilliant smiles.

Brad coveted those smiles and that was entirely too fucked up to contemplate. He needed to stow this shit right the fuck now.

“Ready to go?” Nate asked cheerfully.

“Not quite yet,” Brad replied, giving his smile a sharp edge.

Without explanation, he stood and walked into the raucous bar. Nate followed and that pleased Brad more than it should have.

Stepping up to the bar, Brad ordered each of them a beer. He scanned the crowd. As always, there were pockets of women here and there, out in their packs of safe numbers. He and Nate were noticed the moment they walked in. Some women eyed them appreciatively but with no real intent. Others were downright fucking predatory. A pretty brunette leaned on the bar, waiting to order, and chatted up Brad.

He drew Nate into the conversation, which wasn’t difficult. Brad took a step back to watch. The woman responded eagerly to Nate’s charm. She laughed often and touched his arm frequently. Brad couldn’t blame her for being eager for the attention. Nate stood with his head lowered in order to hear her over the dull roar of the crowd. All of his attention was focused on her with a singular intensity.

Brad knew they’d be beautiful together. It would be so hot to watch Nate’s lean, hard body fucking into the soft curves of this woman.

Nate lifted his head and looked around until he located Brad. He smiled the wide, genuine smile that made Brad’s cock throb slightly and begin to press against his zipper. He watched Nate say something to the woman that obviously disappointed her, just before he walked away and stepped into Brad’s space.

“Another round?” he asked, lifting his own empty bottle.

Nate’s answer was to swallow the last of his beer and hand the empty to Brad.

Fresh, cold beers in hand, Brad began to stroll through the room. He didn’t get far before he encountered two women seated at a small table. The blond had an open expression, an easy smile, and eyed Brad and Nate openly. Her red-haired companion smiled shyly and glanced at Nate through her lowered lashes. She looked away quickly, only to glance back at him seconds later.

Nate’s expression told Brad he’d noticed both the looks and the shyness, and was amused. He looked at Brad expectantly, as if challenging him to start this conversation, too.

The blond was easily drawn into an inane but socially acceptable conversation. Brad introduced himself and Nate. The blond – Melissa – introduced her friend, Angela. He and Nate sat across the table from the women. Nate tried to flirt Angela out of her shyness.  It took a little time and some more alcohol, but Nate finally got the redhead to unbend a little.

Brad’s conversation with the blond was less than memorable and that allowed him to pay attention to Nate. He saw it, each time Nate glanced in his direction, which was often. Brad saw it when Nate smiled politely at Angela and smirked knowingly at him. Each time Nate took a drink of his beer, he’d turn toward Brad and make sure he was watching before running his tongue over his lower lip.

Brad’s cock ached. He wanted to watch Nate swipe that pink tongue along the folds of the redhead’s pussy. The blond should be Brad’s ticket to that show.

The blond was eager to follow Brad back to Nate’s apartment and climb him like a tree. Brad was willing to let her as long as he got to watch Nate rock the little redhead’s world in the bargain. Nate looked like he could close the deal with her anytime he wanted. Brad wondered why he hesitated.

When Nate glanced at him again, Brad lifted one eyebrow. He watched Nate’s eyes flick to the blond and back again. Brad waited.

He knew Nate had made his decision when he leaned across the table and said something to the redhead – _Angela_ – that made her blush.

They all stumbled drunkenly into Nate’s apartment, laughing and clinging onto one another. The redhead had second thoughts about them all climbing onto Nate’s huge bed so Brad manipulated the blond into cajoling her friend into submission.

This time, when Brad’s eyes met Nate’s, he knew Nate was sure about what he was up to. Brad smiled at him, lifted an eyebrow and fucking _dared_ him to call a halt.

Nate answered by being the first one to drag his shirt up over his head. Brad stopped himself from touching, but only just. Nate’s shoulders were broad, his chest well muscled, and his taut abs were sharply defined. Brad stripped off his own shirt and didn’t wonder what Nate thought about how he looked.

Brad lay on his back, propped on pillows, and leaning against the headboard. The blond – _fuck_ – Melissa, was lying between his legs and sucking on his cock like a pro. He held her steady with a hand fisted in her hair as he pushed up into her mouth. She was sloppy and noisy, just like Brad liked. As he fucked Melissa’s mouth, he kept his eyes solidly on Nate.

Beside him on the bed, Angela was spread out, naked, and shuddering violently with every flick of Nate’s tongue on her pussy. She’d let go of her modesty and nervousness with the very first lick.

Nate was belly down on the bed between Angela’s quivering thighs. Brad watched his firm, round ass clench and relax, as Nate rubbed his hard cock into the comforter beneath him. There were dimples in the small of his back, just above the swell of his ass. Brad wanted to grab Nate’s hips to hold him still, so he could press his thumbs into those divots. After that, he wanted to press the tip of his tongue to the same spots.

Nate’s skin was smooth and pale. His broad shoulders kept Angela’s legs spread wide. Brad watched the muscles ripple beneath the shine of Nate’s sweat-damp skin. His elegant, long-fingered hands held Angela’s thighs steady and spread her folds open for his tongue to taste.

His mouth had always been enough to get Brad hard, but now it was puffy and swollen, his lips red and shiny. Nate’s pink tongue swept along his lips and darted over Angela’s pussy with purpose and confidence. His face was flushed, his hair mussed and sweat was beading at his hairline. Nate’s nose; his entire lower face, was wet with Angela’s fluids. He pressed his nose and mouth against her, licking deep inside her pussy and pulling back to flick the tip of his tongue over her wet folds and her swollen clit.

Nate’s eyes blazed a bright green. His gaze was heated, shining bright and luminous. Brad knew this because Nate was looking at him. He was naked, burying his face in fragrant, wet pussy and watching Brad as he did. Brad’s heart slammed against his ribs. Waves of lust rolled down his spine and settled hotly in his gut.

Brad couldn’t look away. He fucked Melissa’s mouth, breathing heavy and moaning encouragement. He couldn’t look away from Nate eagerly licking Angela’s pussy. Brad watched Nate watching him getting his dick sucked.

Angela’s breathing hitched and her hands reached for Nate’s shoulders. Nate shifted position and wrapped his lips around Angela’s clit. He held her hips in a tight grip as he worked her clit aggressively. Nate watched Brad as he tongued Angela to her orgasm.

Nate came to his knees between Angela’s legs, running his palms soothingly along her thighs. He looked at Brad and wiped his mouth on his bare shoulder. Brad didn’t know where to look, his eyes darting between the filthy expression on Nate’s face, to the sight of his rock-hard cock. As Brad watched, Nate’s dusky-red erection bounced between his legs, the tip dripping wet.

Christ. Of course Nate was hung.

“Listening to that got me even wetter,” Melissa said, releasing Brad’s cock and sitting up to finger herself. Brad reached forward and slid a finger inside of her, thumbing her clit as he jacked himself with his other hand. “I just want you to fuck me,” she purred, eyes watching his cock hungrily.

Brad’s heart thundered in his ears at the thought of sinking himself into a slick, hot body. “Where the fuck are my jeans?” he muttered, glancing around the room.

“Drawer,” Nate said. Brad looked at him and followed the tilt of his head.

Rolling to the table beside the bed, Brad slid open the drawer. He froze at the sight of the contents. An open economy sized box of Magnum condoms - contents _mostly_ still intact - and a good sized bottle of lubricant. The seal was broken but it was still nearly full.

There were many reasons Nate would have lube in his bedroom. Jacking off, certainly. Maybe he liked to fuck women in the ass. Brad would bet Nate’s looks and charm let him talk his way into it pretty easily.

Brad’s jealousy rolled back over him at the thought of Nate fucking a guy. Brad’s cock twitched when he pictured Nate, face down in this bed, his ass being pounded vigorously by a nameless, faceless man.

All this fucking effort to get women back to the apartment, just to find out Nate got naked with men. Probably in this very bed.

Brad pushed those thoughts and images aside. He retrieved two condoms without letting the women see just how large Nate’s supply was. He was smarter than that. When he handed Nate one of the foil packets, the fucker smirked. Brad wanted to demand the reason for the lube but he knew, if he did, it would mean Nate had won whatever battle this was they were waging.

Melissa took the condom and rolled it onto Brad’s cock. Just the feel of her light fingers, competent and confident, had his hips flexing in an erratic rhythm.

“Turn around,” Brad said roughly.

Melissa giggled and enthusiastically turned to kneel facing away from Brad. She went down on her hands and knees, facing the foot of the bed. Brad slid into position between her legs, preparing to line himself up with her swollen, dripping pussy. He looked up, seeking Nate’s eyes.

Nate was kneeling between Angela’s legs, facing the headboard. He was already pushing the head of his cock past her opening. Brad caught a glimpse of Nate’s latex-sheathed cock disappearing into pink folds before he felt someone watching him. Brad looked up and met Nate’s blazing green eyes.

Brad tore his gaze away to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. He gripped Melissa’s hips and shoved into her pussy. With a sharp cry, Melissa pushed back against him. She was so fucking hot and wet. Brad’s cock slid into her over and over. Their skin slapped loudly as his hips met her ass. Brad slammed up against the inside of her with each thrust. He gripped Melissa’s hips and pulled her back into him each time he pushed forward. Brad panted, sweat rising on his skin. It felt so fucking good.

Especially knowing Nate was watching everything.

Brad reached around Melissa’s hip and found her engorged clit with his fingertips. He experimented until he found the right speed and pressure to make her pant and tighten around his cock. As Brad worked to get Melissa off, he turned to watch Nate.

Brad bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from coming. Nate knelt between Angela’s legs. The cut muscles of his stomach flexed and rippled as his hips worked back and forth in a fast, smooth rhythm. As Brad watched, Nate gripped the tops of Angela’s knees. He pressed them toward her chest, and then pushed them out, spreading her wide. Angela’s cries were strident and her hands gripped Nate’s thighs, as if trying to mitigate the depth of his strokes.

Nate slammed into her on each thrust. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat. The muscles of his chest were taut, his arms tense. He looked down at Angela as he fucked her, but Brad didn’t think he really saw her. His eyes were heavy lidded, his lips red and swollen, as his mouth hung open slightly. He panted heavily, in between grunts of exertion.

Brad slowed his own thrusts, pretending to focus on making Melissa come. Really, he was just trying to keep from blowing his load.

Beneath him, Melissa shuddered. She cried out loudly as she rocked against Brad. Her body clamped down on him and he felt her vibrate from the inside. She gripped the comforter in both fists as she shouted and swore, and Brad felt her orgasm rip through her.

When she relaxed around him and inhaled deeply, he moved his hand back to her hip and took up his rhythm.

Nate was watching him again.

Heat pooled in Brad’s belly and his balls tightened. The base of his spine sent waves of sensation rolling through the rest of him. Part of him wanted to come right now, with Nate watching. A larger part of him wanted to hold out longer; to hold off until Nate came first.

There was no way. There was no fucking way. Nate’s eyes on Brad felt like a physical touch.

He gritted his teeth, struggling to hold out just a little longer and caught sight of Nate’s smirk. The fucker _knew_ Brad was losing control.

Nate leaned forward, holding himself on steady arms braced on either side of Angela. The muscles of his back and his ass strained, as he fucked into her hard. When Brad heard Nate speak in a low voice, rough from exertion, he thought the top of his head was going to explode.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight around my cock,” Nate murmured. “Does it feel good? Do you like my cock inside you? Am I fuckin’ you good?”

“Fuck,” Brad hissed, watching the straining muscles of Nate’s ass. He was seconds away from coming.

“Oh, fuck,” Nate exclaimed; a little louder, voice decidedly more torn. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fuckin’ come inside you. Shit. Fuck, I’m coming …”

Nate’s orgasm rocked his entire body. The bed vibrated beneath them and Nate pressed himself tightly to the woman under him. He grunted and swore through his clenched teeth. Brad battled the urge to reach out and touch the straining muscles of Nate’s back.

When his climax released him, Nate eased himself from Angela’s body. He sat back on his heels and raked his eyes down Brad’s body, one corner of his mouth lifting subtly.

Brad’s order was clear. Nate had given Brad a victory by letting himself be the first to come, but Brad was damn sure going to come when Nate wanted him to.

Shoving himself deep into Melissa, one last time, Brad folded convulsively over her as he came. His eyes slammed shut, a light show dancing across his lids. When he could open them again, Brad’s vision was gray around the edges.

He’d never come that hard in his life.

The unexpected benefit of four people and one bed in a single-bedroom apartment was that neither woman was inclined to stay the night. Brad slipped into a pair of sleep pants and padded, barefoot and shirtless, around the kitchen while Nate acted the officer and gentleman he was.

The front door closed and the apartment fell silent. Brad felt the usual warm languor that accompanied good sex, but he couldn’t shake his restlessness. He’d run a recon mission on Nate and he had his intel. He just didn’t know what the fuck to do now.

“Are you staying?” Nate’s voice came from the doorway behind him.

Brad turned. Nate stood in nothing but a pair of sweats that hung off of his hipbones. His arms were stretched above him as he gripped the doorjamb. Brad’s mouth went dry and his spent cock stirred to life.

Nate’s question was a challenge. Now that Brad had what he wanted, was he sticking around to face Nate? Or would he turn tail and run like a pussy?

“I’m staying another day,” Brad replied with forced nonchalance. “I thought I’d head back day-after-tomorrow.”

“Good. Okay.” Nate yawned. “Shut out the light and come to bed.”

Brad’s entire body tensed. “Sir?”

Nate looked at Brad over his shoulder, expression clearly calling Brad’s bullshit before it was even spoken. “Stop calling me sir. After tonight, it’s just wrong. And, after what we just did, you sleeping on the sofa is just ridiculous.” He didn’t wait for an answer but disappeared into the bedroom.

Brad settled into bed beside Nate. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had no idea how he was going to relax enough to sleep. The bed smelled lightly of sex and heavily of Nate. Beside him, Nate had no trouble relaxing. Brad could tell by the deep rhythm of his breathing, that Nate was already asleep. The warmth of his body seeped into the bed and suffused Brad’s body.

Pushing aside his  desire to wrap himself around Nate, Brad finally drifted into sleep.

He awoke the next morning with Nate’s ass pressed to the side of his hip. Brad’s morning hard-on ached. He slipped from the bed before he gave in to temptation and pressed his erection to the cleft of Nate’s ass.

Brad left the day after.

Two weeks later, he flew back to England.

Brad and Nate emailed regularly. Brad frequently called Nate on weekends. When the second year of his exchange came to an end, Nate didn’t ask if Brad would visit. Brad didn’t offer.

When Brad reported in at Pendleton upon his return, the bombshell they dropped on him left him reeling. He left on his thirty-day leave, for the first time in his life, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t understand what the problem is, Bradley,” his mother said with exasperation. “Take orders somewhere else for two years and then come back.”

That was the problem. No one understood. They all thought it was so simple. Just let himself be transferred out of Recon for a couple of years and then come back. They all thought he was making a big deal out of nothing. Recon was just like any other MOD, after all.

“I’ve trained for Recon for years,” Brad replied. “This is what I do. This is what I’m good at.”

“It’s only for two years,” his mother pressed, undaunted. “You spent two years in England. The next two years will go just as quickly.”

Brad didn’t reply. There was no point. She would never understand.

Three days later he emailed Nate, climbed onto his bike, and headed east.

Nate’s apartment was exactly the same as Brad remembered. Nate himself appeared the same, but Brad sensed a subtle change in him. It was a good change. He seemed relaxed and at peace. Brad imagined being a couple weeks away from graduating with a double Master’s degree would do that to you.

He paced Nate’s apartment, looking out windows and checking behind doors, as if there could be any threat. Brad was restless. His skin didn’t fit again. He scratched at itches he couldn’t reach because they weren’t there.

Nate sat quietly in a chair, slowly drinking his beer, his eyes following Brad’s every move.

“It is such a fucking relief to see the sun again,” said Brad, more to himself that to Nate, as he stared out the front window. “England is always gray and rainy.” He took a long drink of his beer.

Brad crossed to a small bookshelf. He didn’t read the titles. “I only got to surf a couple of times before I headed out here.”

Nate watched Brad as he circled the room. Brad knew he should sit down, actually have a conversation with Nate. He circled the room again.

“My motorcycle is running well.”

Nate took a drink of his beer.

“I checked in with command when I got back in the country.” Brad swallowed hard. He glanced at Nate, searching for a reaction. Nate’s expression was placid but interested.

Brad tried sitting. He dropped down onto the sofa. His leg immediately began to bounce. Brad finished his beer and leaned forward to set the empty on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers.

“I’m being forced out of First Recon.” Brad couldn’t look at Nate. He cleared his throat. “When I checked in, my C.O. gave me orders to provide three choices for where I want to be assigned.” Saying the words felt like a Ka-Bar twisting in his chest.

Brad started when Nate stood up. If Nate noticed, he gave no sign. Instead, he collected their empties and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he was back with fresh beers.

Nate settled back in his chair, still not saying a word.

Brad took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nate was silent for so long, Brad thought he wasn’t going to respond at all.

“What is it you don’t know?” Nate asked quietly, his voice gentle and soothing. “You don’t know what options to give them? Or you don’t know if you want to stay in at all?”

Brad sucked in a harsh breath at the sound of the actual words. Suddenly, he knew what one of his options _wasn’t_.

“You don’t need me to tell you why the Corps needs and wants _you_ to rotate through other MODs,” Nate said abruptly. “You already know the reasons. All I ever wanted was Infantry. The idea of riding a desk was anathema. I’m not going to insult you by sitting here and saying you should just suck it up, get yourself assigned someplace fun, that has good weather, and ride out your two years.”

Relief washed over Brad like a cooling breeze.

“You can hang out here as long as you need to,” Nate continued. “Think about your options. If you want to talk about it, let me know, otherwise let’s just have some fun while you’re here. When you’re ready to make a decision, you’ll know.”

“I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?” Brad asked abruptly, finally finding he could look at Nate. “Any classes, or studying, or anything?”

Nate waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve already defended my thesis successfully. I’ve got two finals coming up but I don’t need to study; I paid attention during lecture.”

“I can entertain myself if you need some time.”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.”

Brad had no reply to that. Nate’s words filled him with warmth and a sense of peace. He was glad to be here. “Thank you, sir.”

Nate hissed.

Brad chuckled. The ‘sir’ had been a slip, but Nate’s smile made him glad he’d done it.

He realized his next stationing wasn’t the only decision he had to make while he was here. Brad was assaulted by memories of the last time he’d visited Nate. His dick hardened as he pictured Nate’s flushed face, his sweaty skin, and his cock. Brad wanted to be naked with Nate again, and this time, with no women between them.

He knew Nate was no passive bottom though, and that was Brad’s only hesitation.

“Wanna go get something to eat?” Nate asked.

No, Brad didn’t. Still, he needed to do _something_. When he felt like this, he usually picked a fight or picked a whore. “Yeah. Why not?” Brad answered.

Nate walked them several blocks to a neighborhood bar that offered a full menu. It was quiet and friendly. The food was good. Their waitress flirted without being intrusive or annoying. Brad drank a lot of beer.

He was aware of Nate watching him closely, eyes following each time Brad pounded down large swallows of beer. Nate said nothing and Brad showed no reaction to being watched.

Toward the end of the meal, Brad switched to scotch neat. Nate made no comment but his expression darkened.

As Brad signed for the bill, a group of young men came in and started a game of pool. They were probably undergrads. Even before the beer’d had time to kick in, they grew loud.

Beneath the table, Brad’s leg bounced violently. He wanted to go back to the apartment and rub his naked skin against Nate’s. He could let Nate fuck him, if it was the only way he could have Nate. The words - the request - stuck in Brad’s throat.

A burst of loud laughter erupted from the group at the pool tables.

Annoyance spiked the length of Brad’s spine. “Hey! We’re trying to have a conversation, here,” he shouted at them.

“Brad,” Nate’s voice held a warning.

The group scoffed but they did quiet down. Brad resumed whatever bullshit he was telling Nate, until the noise from the pool table grew too loud again.

“You need to shut the fuck up!” Brad yelled.

Nate reached a hand across the table but Brad pushed back his chair so he was out of reach. This time, the men didn’t back down. They shouted obscenities at Brad.

“Brad, let it go,” Nate ordered in a low voice.

Coming out of his chair, Brad crossed the room in just a few strides. Most of the men retreated. Two foolishly stood their ground, even when Brad pushed up into their space and they had to crane their necks to look up at him.

Brad couldn’t pick a whore – couldn’t have Nate - so he was going to pick a fight.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Nate was suddenly there beside Brad, pushing himself between the combatants.

Brad refused to back down. The two dumb-fucks mouthed off to Nate.

“If you two are stupid enough to take on a fully trained Marine, who’s done two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, I’ll turn him loose,” Nate said angrily, standing tall over the two ass-wipes.

To Brad’s disappointment, the pussies backed down. He tried to pursue them.

“Stand down, Brad.” Nate turned and grasped Brad by the bicep, forcibly dragging him through the bar.

“Let go of me,” Brad snapped, trying to shake loose of Nate’s painful grip.

“You’re drunk. You need to back the fuck off.”

“They need their fuckin’ asses kicked.” Brad jerked his arm in an attempt to break Nate’s grip. When that failed, he wrenched his arm upward. Nate was too tall for that to work. He was also strong enough to drag Brad’s arm back down.

“Not by you, they don’t,” Nate insisted, his voice rough with his anger.

Nate was touching him but not in the way Brad wanted him to. He shoved at Nate’s shoulder, tried to pry his fingers from around Brad’s arm. Nate thwarted Brad at every turn and managed to get them closer to the exit at the same time. Brad stopped walking and dug his heels into the floor. Nate braced himself and hauled Brad forward and off balance, using Brad’s momentum to propel him even closer to the door.

“Get the fuck off me, Nate.” With his free hand, Brad shoved Nate hard in the chest, finally pissed off and frustrated enough to want to inflict pain.

Nate managed to dislodge Brad’s hand from his chest. “You’ll get yourself tossed in jail and then the brig. Is that really what you want?”

Brad shoved at Nate’s chest again. When he expected his arm to be swept aside, Nate surprised him by grabbing his wrist. Releasing his hold on Brad’s bicep, Nate shifted his weight and twisted. Surprise and alcohol made Brad’s reactions sluggish. He grunted when Nate shoved his wrist up between his shoulder blades. Brad had no choice but to let himself be shoved out the door and onto the sidewalk outside.

Rage rolled through Brad. He pulled forward and managed to jerk his arm free from Nate’s hand. A warning voice echoed in his head, telling him he’d only gotten free because Nate had allowed it. Brad didn’t heed the voice’s warning. He drew back his clenched fist.

Three years as a civilian hadn’t dulled Nate’s reflexes. He shifted his weight and punched Brad across the cheekbone.

Brad fell onto one knee. He looked up at Nate just in time to see his fist, pulled back over his shoulder, begin to descend. Nate’s knuckles connected solidly with Brad’s jaw.

“That’s enough!” called a male voice, laced heavily with authority. Brad glanced over to see the uniformed leg of a police officer. “What’s the problem here?”

“Brad?” Nate barked, taking two steps back and lifting his hands, palm out. “Is there a problem here?”

Glancing at the cop’s face, Brad shook his head. “No, sir. No problem.” What the fuck had he done? He’d pissed off Nate, gotten his ass kicked, and now he was probably going to get them both arrested. He stayed down on his knee and let his head hang between his shoulders.

“My friend had too much to drink and started to pick a fight inside,” Nate said calmly. “I dragged him outside so I could get him calmed down.”

“And you thought punching him in the face would calm him down?” the cop asked, disbelief obvious.

“When a Marine gets drunk and feels threatened, that’s sometimes what it takes to get his attention.”

“Sir, are you alright?” The cop came to stand in front of Brad. “Do you need medical attention?”

Brad sighed in exasperation. His face flushed with embarrassment. “No, I do not need medical attention for a couple of punches to the face.”

“On your feet, Staff Sergeant,” Nate ordered harshly, taking one step forward. “You look the man in the eye when he’s addressing you.”

Brad pushed to his feet. “Yes, sir,” he grunted. Fuck. When had he become Nate’s bitch?

“Do you want to press charges?”

Brad scoffed. “No, I don’t. We served together in Iraq. I needed my ass kicked and he’s able to do it.”

The cop looked back and forth between them several times. “I think it might be time for you gentlemen to call it night. You can’t be hitting on one another in public, no matter the reasons.”

“That was my intention when I dragged him outside in the first place,” Nate replied. “All we need is a taxi and I’ll make sure he gets home for the night.”

“I can help with that.” The cop stepped to the curb and gave a sharp whistle. Almost immediately, a taxi pulled to a stop in front of them, despite the large, milling crowd all trying to hail cabs.

Nate grabbed the back of Brad’s neck painfully. He dragged Brad over to the car and shoved him roughly inside. Brad heard him apologize politely and thank the cop, before climbing in as well. He was curt when he gave the driver his address. Brad could feel the tension radiating off of Nate. He sat, spine straight, feet flat, hands fisted on his thighs, staring silently ahead.

Brad drew breath to speak, not sure what he was going to say.

“Just sit there and don’t say a fucking word,” Nate said, his voice low and fierce.

Brad did as he was ordered. Christ, he’d fucked up. Now he didn’t even have Nate’s friendship.

The cab dropped them off and Nate paid. When he turned toward Brad, Nate grabbed his shoulder, his grip painful. Brad gave no reaction, letting himself be pushed and steered exactly where Nate wanted him.

When Nate shoved him into the apartment, Brad crossed toward the sofa, intending to gather up his bag and get the fuck out.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nate demanded, nearly shouting. Before Brad could answer, Nate shoved at his back with both hands. Brad stumbled forward toward the hall. “Get your ass in there.”

Brad steadied himself with a hand on the wall. His heart slammed against his ribs and his mouth went dry. Nate was still pissed but he wasn’t kicking Brad out. Instead, he was forcing him into the bedroom, of all places.

“I’ve been waiting patiently for you to tell me what you want,” Nate said, pushing Brad through the door to the bedroom. “But you can’t say a fuckin’ word, can you? No, you gotta go pick a fight with a bunch of kids you could kill with a look, instead of just telling me you wanna be fucked.”

Brad couldn’t breathe. He turned to face Nate, wondering why he was even surprised Nate had figured it out. He’d been reading Brad’s mind for years now.

“I couldn’t,” he choked out.

“Obviously.” Nate’s expression was thunderous.

“What the fuck would I say? What the fuck would you have done if I had?”

In two strides Nate was standing directly in front of him. Brad’s entire body tensed as he readied himself for the blow. Instead, Nate shoved Brad to sit on the bed. Roughly, he stripped Brad of his shirt.

“I’d have done what you asked me to do,” Nate said. “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.” He sounded a little less angry now. “Take off your shoes.”

Brad leaned over to obey, his movements slow and sluggish as his brain raced to catch up to what the fuck was happening. Nate moved around the room and when he came back, he tossed the lube bottle and a condom onto the bed.

Christ. They were doing this. Brad was actually getting what he wanted. He _did_ want this. If this was the only way he could have Nate, he wanted to do this.

Nate reached for the waist of Brad’s jeans. With quick and competent hands, he stripped Brad. “Slide up the bed,” Nate said. This time he spoke softly and the kindness in his voice almost shattered Brad.

Scrambling awkwardly backward, Brad ended up crossways on the wide bed. Nate had the lube and condom in his hand as he crawled up and knelt between Brad’s legs. He was still dressed. Brad’s cock jumped at how exposed he was, naked and hard while Nate still wore all his clothes. Brad exhaled, like he’d been punched, at the feel of Nate’s hand on his thigh.

Looking up at the ceiling, Brad fisted his hands in the comforter and told himself to relax. He heard Nate open and close the lube bottle. Nate’s finger was cold as it pushed into Brad’s hole. It stung and he held his breath against the discomfort.

Nate pushed in two slick fingers. Brad sucked in a harsh breath. He tried to relax. He thought the stretch might feel good but he couldn’t get past the sting and the burn.

When Nate’s fingers slid out of him, Brad squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what was coming next. He could get through this. He realized that after his exhibition of stupidity, this was going to be the only time he got to have Nate. He could tell by the way Nate _wasn’t_ touching him; the way Nate wasn’t talking. Nate was still dressed.

They hadn’t kissed.

This was exactly how Brad treated someone he only intended to fuck once and had no desire to spend the entire night with.

Brad could do this. He _would_ do this. He stopped breathing when Nate pushed three fingers into him. _Relaxrelaxrelaxrelaxrelaxrelax_. Brad chanted inside his own head. This wasn’t going to work if he couldn’t force himself to relax.

“Brad.” Nate’s voice was barely audible over the cacophony in Brad’s head. “Brad.” There was a note of concern in Nate’s voice but it hardly registered.

Brad’s eyes snapped open at the feel of Nate’s hand running over his hair. His clothing was rough on Brad’s naked skin as he lay over him. “Brad. Brad, you have to relax or this won’t work.” Nate’s lips skimmed along Brad’s jaw. “Fuck.” Brad heard him whisper. Nate buried his face in Brad’s neck. “I thought you’d done this before. I thought you wanted me.”

Brad exhaled harshly and immediately dragged a ragged breath back in. Nate lifted his head and Brad found his gaze. “I do,” Brad blurted when he saw the desperate need and affection burning in Nate’s eyes. It left him stunned.

Nate slid his fingers out of Brad’s body. His brow furrowed and he gave a slight shake of his head. Brad gripped Nate’s shoulders to keep him from pulling away.

“I don’t …” Nate whispered against the corner of Brad’s mouth, confusion clouding his brilliant eyes.

Brad realized he needed to man-up or he’d lose everything. Again. With a choked sound, he pressed his lips to Nate’s and pushed in with his tongue. He’d lost all finesse in his desperation, making the kiss clumsy.

Nate moaned into Brad’s mouth and met his tongue enthusiastically. Brad felt a shudder run through Nate’s body. Relief washed through Brad and warmed him. He relaxed into the bed and wrapped his arms around Nate’s body, pressing their chests together.

Nate pulled back on a gasp, running his hands over Brad’s shoulders. His lips were red and swollen and he took deep, gasping breaths. “Okay,” Brad heard him murmur. “Okay. I understand now. I understand.”

Brad was glad Nate understood because he sure the fuck didn’t.

Nate knelt up and tore his shirt over his head. He shifted awkwardly on the bed, shedding his clothes, until he was just as naked as Brad. When Nate lowered himself once again, Brad felt the heat of his body. He ran his hands down the smooth skin of Nate’s firm back. He slid his legs against the coarse hair of Nate’s. The dual sensations set off a shower of sparks in Brad’s brain.

Nate’s strong hands held Brad’s head steady and he kissed him. Brad licked into Nate’s mouth. He’d always thought kissing was a means to an end but with Nate, he could do this forever.

“Why do you have to make things so fucking difficult?” Nate whispered against Brad’s jaw. He wondered if Nate even knew he’d spoken. Brad let Nate go, reluctantly, when he knelt up again. “We’ll go slow this time.”

Brad almost protested. He was lubed, he was ready for Nate’s cock. Brad wanted to feel Nate in and around him. What if Nate changed his mind and pulled away entirely.

He expected Nate to push three fingers back into Brad’s hole. Instead, he felt Nate’s hands caress his thighs. Nate’s palms were rough and calloused as they skimmed down Brad’s inner thighs. Brad gasped at the feel of Nate’s fingers circling his cock.

Brad stared at the ceiling. He realized he’d gone soft while Nate had been prepping him. He was only just getting hard again, with the encouragement of Nate’s hand.

“Look at me, Brad,” Nate’s voice was quiet but was backed with steel.

Brad looked into Nate’s eyes. They burned with a heat Nate wasn’t bothering to disguise. A surge of blood rushed into Brad’s cock. Nate must have felt it because he smiled wickedly.

Disappointment stung when Nate’s hand released Brad’s dick. It was forgotten when Nate leaned down and dragged the flat of his tongue along Brad’s belly. Brad gripped Nate’s shoulders reflexively as a shiver ran the length of his body. Christ. Where had that come from?

“I thought you just wanted a fuck,” Nate whispered between flicks of his tongue to Brad’s nipples. “I didn’t realize you wanted _this_.”

It surprised Brad, too. He thought he’d just wanted to fuck Nate. He should have realized he wanted all of Nate.

Brad pressed himself upward into the heat of Nate’s body. He was dense and heavy as he lay on top of Brad. Gooseflesh rose on Brad’s skin when Nate pressed his face to the join of his neck and shoulder. When Nate ground his hips down, Brad pressed up into him, feeling the unmistakable sign of Nate’s arousal.

Nate’s cock was thick and hard against Brad’s own. They rutted against each other for several long minutes. Nate’s breath was hot against Brad’s skin as he panted against his neck.

Brad reached for Nate, grasping his face and guiding him upward so Brad could kiss him. Nate opened for him, pushed back against Brad’s tongue.

Fuck. Brad was losing his fucking mind; needing to kiss Nate, as if he was an emotional teenage girl.

He watched Nate come to his knees again and reach for the lube bottle. This time, Nate used one arm to prop himself over Brad. When Nate reached his other hand - his lubed hand - between their bodies, Brad held his breath looked at the ceiling. He willed his body to relax.

“Don’t do that,” Nate whispered. Brad’s eyes snapped to Nate’s. He held himself perfectly still as Nate’s slick finger slid into him again. “That’s it, Brad. Now breathe.”

Brad sucked in a ragged breath but otherwise didn’t make a sound. He felt himself relax around Nate’s finger as it slid in and out several times.

Nate added lube to his fingers and this time, he pushed two of them into Brad’s hole. Brad made a noise, low in his throat. The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted briefly in reaction. He crooked his fingers and fireworks shot through Brad’s body. His spine bowed against his will. He bit back the sound that threatened to tear loose from his throat.

This time, Nate circled Brad’s entrance with three heavily lubed fingers. “Bare down,” Nate said, voice torn. “Keep breathing.”

Brad did as Nate instructed. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Nate’s fingers breached him, pushing and stretching until Nate’s knuckles brushed against the rim of Brad’s hole. Breathing heavily through his nose, Brad watched Nate closely. He knew Nate was watching him, as well.

Nate bent his fingers and pressed deep inside of Brad. Hissing sharply, Brad’s eyes slipped shut for a moment. His back bowed and he reached to grip Nate’s hips. Brad eased back down onto the bed, intense pleasure echoing through him.

Nate’s fingers slid in and out of Brad’s ass several times. Brad felt slick and stretched. He wanted to feel Nate inside of him, right now.

Carefully withdrawing his fingers, Nate sat back and Brad watched him pick up the lube and the condom. He considered helping, but Brad couldn’t unclench his fists from the comforter.

He watched Nate put a small amount of lube on the head of his dick and then slide the condom over and down the shaft. He coated his latex-sheathed cock with more lube before tossing it aside.

Brad shifted, lifting his knees and staring again at the ceiling. Suddenly, Nate’s face came into Brad’s view, features strained. Brad braced himself, waiting for Nate’s cock to push up into him. The blunt head of Nate’s erection pressed against his hole and Brad willed himself to relax.

He made a small sound of surprise when Nate kissed him. Brad clutched at Nate’s skull, licking back at his searching tongue. Relaxing into the bed under the arousing weight of Nate’s body, Brad felt Nate’s cock ease slowly into him.

The discomfort was all but lost in the pleasure. Nate’s erection stretched Brad wide. The burn was exquisite. Nate broke the kiss, mouthing his way along Brad’s jaw before nuzzling at his ear.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Nate whispered harshly. He gave a hard thrust of his hips and pushed deep into Brad. “So fucking good.”

Brad bit back his moans but he couldn’t keep his spine from arching in pleasure when Nate slid all the way in, his balls slapping against Brad’s ass.

Nate sat up, tension obvious in every line of his body. His face showed strain. Brad wondered at that; what Nate was struggling against.

He tried to cooperate as Nate lifted one of Brad’s legs to drape it over Nate’s shoulder. He was tense again and his motions thwarted Nate’s goal. Finally, his calf rested on Nate’s shoulder, the back of his thigh pressed to Nate’s chest and belly. Nate let Brad’s other leg fall to the side, opening him up.

Nate snorted a laugh as he finally got Brad settled where he wanted him. “You and your long fucking legs.”

Giving a few experimental thrusts, Nate looked pleased with the position. Brad felt steady and secure when Nate wrapped an arm around his knee, pressing his raised leg tight to Nate’s body. Brad jumped slightly in surprise when Nate’s other hand settled on his belly and began to rub soothing circles.

“Just relax, Brad,” Nate said, voice rough from lust and tension. “Touch your dick if you have to; if you _want_ to.”

Brad’s cock lay hard and aching against his belly. He hadn’t lost his erection since Nate had kissed him. He’d worry later, about what that meant.

Nate started to move. His first thrusts were strong and deep; Brad took him easily. When Nate picked up his pace, moving fast enough that his thrusts were hard and rough, the burn made Brad’s eyes water.

Reaching his hand down, Brad gripped his flagging cock firmly. He jacked himself roughly. The tension in his body shifted. The familiar pleasure of stimulation on his dick, the fullness and the pressure of Nate’s cock inside of him, made his inner muscles clench at Nate. Brad’s hole relaxed and the sting subsided.

“Fuck yeah,” Nate breathed, face flushed with arousal and exertion. “That’s it, that’s it. Don’t think about it, just feel it.”

Brad slowed his hand. He didn’t want to come too fast. He was feeling good now, Nate felt so good inside of him, he didn’t want to end it all too fast by coming. He watched Nate’s body flex and strain against him. Brad snuck glances at Nate’s face, trying to gauge whether or not it felt as good to him.

“Come on, Brad,” Nate gasped over the sound of their slapping skin. “Stop holding yourself back.”

Brad thought Nate wanted him to come. Reluctantly, he sped up his hand.

“Do you like this?” Nate asked breathlessly. “Does it feel good?”

“Fuck yeah,” Brad groaned, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes.

“Stop hiding from me,” Nate said around his own moans as he hammered himself in and out of Brad’s body. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

Nate changed the angle of his hips, the fucker, and Brad couldn’t hold back his groan.

“Yeah, like that,” Nate said with a wide smile.

For Nate – because he asked – Brad relinquished part of the tight hold he kept on himself. He’d be embarrassed by his decadent groans and needy cries later.

Nate kept up a punishing pace. Brad was full and stretched. Nate was here with him, inside of him, and apparently enjoying himself. Brad stroked his own cock rapidly; he could just feel the leading edge of his orgasm begin to build.

“Don’t stop,” Brad whispered, despite himself, when he realized the feel of Nate’s cock added to the pleasure that was sending him careening over the edge.

“I won’t,” Nate answered quickly. “I won’t stop.”

Brad’s climax rolled up on him faster than it ever had. Sensation overwhelmed him, flooded all his senses and his spine bowed violently.

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” Brad nearly begged. His eyes snapped shut and he arched off the bed almost entirely. “Don’t fucking stop.” Christ. He _was_ begging.

“I won’t. I’ve got you.”

Brad moaned on each exhale. His hand on his cock stroked fast enough to blur. His other hand was fisted, white knuckled, in the comforter. He arched so high off the bed, he started slipping off the edge. Nate’s cock in his ass, the arm around his thigh, were the only things keeping him from falling.

“Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop,” Brad pleaded. “ _Please_ don’t fucking stop.” His voice was broken by the force of Nate’s cock slamming into him.

 “That’s it, Brad,” Nate encouraged soothingly. “I won’t stop. Just let go. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

Brad looked down the length of his body and watched the blood-red head of his cock disappear over and over into his fist. His body clenched tight, arching up off the bed and he couldn’t move. He trusted Nate to anchor him, to keep them both from crashing to the floor. Brad glanced up into Nate’s face and found him watching Brad’s pumping fist, his expression awestruck.

Brad’s orgasm rolled over him violently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, his cock pulsing in his fist.

“Yeah, that’s so fuckin’ hot,” Nate said with a lewd smile as he watched the first strand of come shoot from Brad’s dick.

Brad’s body shook and he shouted, his throat going raw. Ropes of white come rolled down his fingers, others splashed onto his straining belly. His balls pressed up tight to his body and pumped hot fluid out the slit of his cock. It was fucking endless.

When his body finally released its hold on him, Brad squeezed the tip of his dick, hissing at the sudden sensitivity. He relaxed down onto the bed, his chest heaving. Nate was still slowly fucking Brad’s ass; still anchoring him. Every nerve ending in Brad’s body was firing and Nate felt huge inside of him.

Slowly, Nate lowered Brad’s leg to the bed. “Christ, that felt good,” Nate breathed, easing himself onto Brad’s body. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that Brad’s chest and belly were covered in drying come.

Resting on his elbows on either side of Brad’s head, Nate kissed him. Brad reached down and grasped Nate’s ass, pulling him close and shoving his cock in deeper. He wrapped his legs around the backs of Nate’s thighs and encouraged him to keep moving. Nate’s kiss was hard, wet, and sloppy. Brad licked back into his mouth hungrily.

Brad didn’t realize his neck was tired of hanging off the edge of the bed until Nate slid his hands up to cradle Brad’s head and support him. Nate kept kissing him. Brad used his hands and legs to encourage Nate to keep moving; to keep fucking him. He liked the feel of Nate sliding into his hole and then pulling out to stretch the rim. But Brad also wanted Nate to come. Brad wanted Nate to feel the same intense pleasure he had, just moments before.

Nate pulled out of the kiss with a wet smack. He buried his face in Brad’s neck. Brad felt his breath, hot and heavy against his sensitized skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Nate whispered hoarsely.

“Yeah, do it,” Brad murmured against the shell of Nate’s ear. He tightened his body around Nate’s cock.

“Oh, shit. It’s fucking amazing when you do that.”

Nate shoved all the way into Brad’s hole. His body tensed, his ragged breathing ceased for a moment. He shivered once, just before a violent shudder wracked his entire frame. Brad felt those vibrations in his own body as Nate rocked against him. Inside of him, Nate’s cock twitched and pulsed. He heard Nate’s low cries and deep moans as he came, just as hard as Brad had.

He wrapped himself around Nate when he collapsed against Brad, panting heavily into his neck. This would be when Nate pulled away. Brad braced himself, preparing for Nate to roll off of him and banish him to the sofa for the night.

“I must be heavy,” Nate murmured, shifting slightly. “I just can’t seem to make myself move.”

“You’re fine,” Brad said, meaning it.

“Except the drying come is getting sticky.” There was laughter in his voice.

Bad reluctantly let him go when Nate slowly climbed off and slid his softened cock from Brad’s hole. He felt strangely empty without Nate inside of him. That was unexpected.

When Nate slipped into the bathroom, Brad climbed off the bed and began to straighten it. He wasn’t going to leave behind any sign he’d been there. Brad would always know he’d been in Nate’s bed, though. He’d always wondered if he’d feel any different, once he finally let someone inside his body.

Nate emerged with a warm, wet washcloth and reached to clean the come from Brad’s chest and belly. Brad realized it wasn’t finally getting fucked that made him feel this way. It was Nate.

He pushed Nate’s hands away. “You don’t have to do that.” Brad didn’t like what Nate’s gentleness made him feel. He didn’t like feeling at all.

“I know I don’t. I want to.” Nate kept swiping at Brad’s skin.

He pushed at Nate again. “You don’t have to take care of me,” Brad snapped. “I’m not some fucking clinging girl.”

Nate sighed in frustration. “Yeah, Brad, you kind of are. Now would you stop making things so fucking difficult and just let me do this?”

Brad stood, chastised. He didn’t _make_ things difficult. That’s just how things were.

Nate tossed the washcloth into the bathroom. “Get into bed, Brad,” Nate said wearily. “I’m not kicking you out to sleep on the sofa like you’re some one-night fuck.”

Brad’s throat tightened. Nate reading him so clearly should make things easier for him. He didn’t have to talk. It just pissed him off that he couldn’t hide anything from Nate. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him this, too, was a good thing.

He slid into the bed, already warmed by Nate’s body heat. Nate had stacked the pillows high. He pulled Brad down to lay next to him so that they were touching at their shoulders and thighs.

Brad swallowed hard. “I’m not a fucking girl,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say to ease the tension that had risen between them.

“You let me fuck you because you thought it was the only way I’d want to be with you,” Nate answered slowly, his voice pitched low. “When you picked that fight earlier, I thought it meant you just wanted a quick, rough fuck. Then I kissed you and you … it was like something inside of you just let go.”

“I did not …” Brad started to protest vehemently.

“It’s not a bad thing. I kissed you because I wanted to; even though I thought it would piss you off.”

Brad didn’t know how to reply to that.

“Even now, you can’t relax,” Nate said morosely. “You’re lying there, waiting for me to roll over and go to sleep; expecting me to treat you like a dirty secret I regret.”

Brad had done that very thing more times than he could count. Hell, the two of them had done it together, here in this apartment, just a year ago. “That’s usually how it goes.”

“Maybe for you,” Nate replied.

He was silent for a long time. Brad started to relax and thought he might actually be able to sleep. The last time they’d done this, it had been nice to be so close to Nate’s heat and skin.

“Submit a list of jobs at Quantico you might like to work.” Nate’s voice, after such an extended silence, startled Brad. “They shouldn’t be fussy about where you end up. Just get yourself stationed at Quantico.”

“Why Quantico?” Brad was baffled and curious. “Why not Lejeune?”

“Geography,” Nate replied. “I was going to sub-let an apartment in Georgetown but instead, we’ll just get a place together in Virginia.”

Brad’s breath caught in his throat. There was no fucking way he was hearing Nate right. There was no way he got to have this. It was way too easy. “You don’t have to shift your life around like that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.”

Brad wanted to look at Nate. He wanted to see if Nate was serious. He was afraid of what he’d find if he did. Brad was afraid of what Nate would be able to see. “Why?” he finally asked.

Beside him, Nate shifted. Brad was forced to meet Nate’s eyes when he draped himself over Brad’s body and ran a hand over his hair. It felt affectionate. Brad swallowed against his constricted throat.

“Because we just started something important here,” Nate said firmly, staring unblinking into Brad’s eyes. “It’s going to be difficult and complicated as it is. It needs to be nurtured before we have to deal with everything that comes with doing this long-distance.”

“You don’t have to move in with me,” Brad said. “I can billet in the BEQ. You’ll still get laid on the weekends.”

“Stop,” Nate snapped. “That’s not what this is about. Stop throwing up barriers where there don’t need to be any. Christ, Brad. You really _are_ allowed to have something you want.”

Something sharp twisted in Brad’s chest. “That’s not usually how things work.”

Nate nodded his understanding. He lay down beside Brad and sighed heavily. “Let’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. I never asked how long we’ve got. When do you have to be back at Pendleton?”

“I have to be back in California in three weeks,” Brad replied. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. To his surprise, he relaxed against Nate, suddenly feeling drowsy. “Apparently we have all the time in the world.”

He felt Nate’s smile more than saw it. “Now you’re getting it.”


End file.
